The Lion and the Dragon
by N7withpride
Summary: The Young Dovahkiin had saved Skyrim, ending many a threat for the people. But when another country requires the aid of the man, he will do what he can. But what can a foreigner, even a Dragon, do to stop the end of Nirn itself? M for strong language, violence, and sexual references and lemons.
1. Prologue

**Hey guys! I've been reading stories about this idea, and I thought I'd try my hand at it. I hope you enjoy! Please review, it inspires me to continue.**

 _Fredas, 1_ _7_ _th_ _of Last Seed, 4E 202_

 _Windhelm, Province of Skyrim, Tamriel_

Windhelms echoed with the sounds of battle. The stench of burning city spread throughout, and the battle cries of Stormcloaks and Imperials was almost as loud as the clatter of steel on steel.

Silvyr Lionheart smirked, taking in the feeling of a good siege. He wore a customized set of armor, much to his style. He has a chest piece of light blue leather, with a right shoulder piece of steel. He wears plate greaves, with a tailcoat, and plate boots. He wears two fingerless leather gloves, and he wears a silver cloak with a hood, and a lion logo on the back.

Silvyr is a young man, 16 years of age, with silver white hair, and grey eyes, which is how he got his name. He carries a tempered silver sword, and a steel shield on his back. He has a scar over his left eye.

General Tullius had just finished his speech, and the men were cheering. The legate turned to his companions: Lydia the Housecarl, Farkas, and Hadvar, his closest friend in the Legion. "Ready, to tear down Ulfric's rebellion, once and for all?"

They nodded. "Ready and able, my love," Lydia states, smiling.

"Then let's do this," Silvyr turns, and enters the city.

The attack had just started in earnest, and the battle was already intense. Stormcloak blue clashed with Legion red, Dragon and Bear engaged in fierce combat in the entrance to Windhelm. Silvyr ran in, slicing the first Stormcloak he sees' chest, and spinning, beheading another. He blocked an attack from one's axe, impaling the soldier.

Farkas cleaved one in half with his greatsword, smashing the pommel into another and bringing his blade down on the stunned Stormcloak hard. Lydia smashed her one handed axe into the neck of a Stormcloak, using him as a shield against a few arrows. She elbowed a Stormcloak in the face, beheading him.

The companions fought their way to the great keep of Windhelm, slaughtering countless Stormcloaks on the way. Their fiercest resistance was right in front of the keep. Hadvar and Ralof engaged in single combat, as Silvyr charged into the fray against a large group of Stormcloaks.. Farkas and Lydia fought off the two other large groups.

Lydia smashed her axe into the chest of a Stormcloak, breaking his rib cage. She blocks an attack from another, disarming him and beheading him. She turns, and an arrow flies into her shoulder. She grunts, pulling it out and giving a war cry. The arrow made her drop her weapon. She grabbed a Stormcloak, snapping his neck. Two more arrows flew into her chest. She screamed, tackling a Stormcloak and pommeling his face. Two swords cut her across the back, and she turned, grabbing a discarded sword and cut one's legs off, stabbing him in the throat. Then, a greatsword goes through her head.

Silvyr screams, stabbing a Stormcloak in the neck. He cuts one across the chest, and then chops his head in half. He elbows another, spinning his blade around so it's inverted and shoving it through the soldier's chest. He grabs a throwing knife, throwing it into the eye of another Stormcloak. He pulls his blade out of the dead Stormcloak, turning to a large group charging him.

" **Fus.."** he begins, as they continue the charge.

 **"Roh.."** he continues, as the charge continues.

 **"Dah!"** the shout carries throughout the city, shaking the ground, as the charging group flies backwards. He panted, looking around in a rage, before running to Lydia's side. He held her in his arms, pulling his hood down. The tears flooded his eyes as he looked at the woman he loved, taken from him.

"Harbinger," Farkas begins, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Let's finish this," he responds, sadness turning to rage. He walked into the Keep.

One of the Stormcloak guards charged, swinging. Silvyr sidestepped, and thrust his blade into the neck of the Stormcloak. Tullis and Rikke entered the Keep soon afterwards.

Ulfric sat on his throne, as Galmor Stone-fist stood in front, axe at the ready.

"Ulfric!" Tullius yells as he approaches the Jarl. "you are a traitor. Surrender, and we will give you the mercy of a clean death."

"Tullius, you know damn well that isn't going to happen. Forget the formalities, let's just end this." Ulfric stood up, pulling out his Dwarven blade.

Galmor and Rikke engaged in battle first, with Tullius and Stormcloak battling soon after. That fight didn't last long, Ulfric using Unrelenting Force to knock Tullius on his arse. Silvyr then got involved.

"It's a shame you chose slavery to the Thalmor over freeing your homeland, Dragonborn," Ulfric states, as they circle each other.

"I hold no love for the Thalmor, but do you realize you've been fooled? The Thalmor have used you to make the Empire weak. They WILL attack us while we're rebuilding, and by then we will lose. We need the Empire if we are to fight the elves!"

Ulfric doesn't respond, simply charging. Silvyr had discarded his shield, believing it gave him an unfair advantage. This would be a fair duel. Silvyr parried his swing, striking at the Stormcloak commander. Ulfric dodged, and went back on the attack. Their swords clashed, in a test of strength. The fight went on for almost an hour, the two generals hacking away at each other, when eventually Ulfric made a mistake. He left himself open for an attack, and Silvyr seized the opportunity, sending his sword into the leg of the old bear.

Tullius walked up. "Ulfric Stormcloak, you are guilty of crimes against Skyrim and her people. The punishment for this treason is death." Tullius raised his blade to strike down the beaten commander.

"No!" Silvyr stops the blade. Everyone looks at him in shock.

"His crimes are punishable by death, Dragonborn. He has to die."

"He is beaten, his army destroyed, his city besieged. He has lost. Banish him, imprison him, I don't care. But we've had enough death today."

"Fine," Tullius states. "The province will have to believe he is dead, and he will be imprisoned with Galmor Stone-Fist until we find a suitable place for him."

Silvyr nodded, and him and Farkas left the Keep.

And this was the last time the Dragonborn picked up his sword for a long time. The loss of his love was too much, so he retired to raising his two adopted children, Lucia and Blaise. He lived in Breezehome, in Whiterun. For over a year he worked as a smith, selling his wares for a living, and raising his children.

* * *

 _Middas, 18_ _th_ _of Hearthfire, 4E 203_

 _Whiterun, Province of Skyrim, Tamriel_

Silvyr walked down the street of Whiterun, up to the market, Lucia running away and Blaise chasing after her. Silvyr laughed, watching his children play tag in the streets. He was going to buy provisions, when a man walked up to him.

The man was large, a full head taller than Silvyr, wearing a full set of Ebony armor. He had an Ebony Sword strapped to his hip, and an Ebony Shield on his back. "You, you're the one they call Dragonborn?"

Silvyr looked at him, hesitantly. "Aye, I am. And who might you be?"

"People call me the Ebony Warrior. I'm not too fond of it, but it'll do," the Warrior responds. Everyone in the marketplace was watching the exchange.

"Well, if you need smithing done, find me at my forge. Now, if there is nothing else," Silvyr attempts to walk away, but the Ebony Warrior stops him.

"I've done everything there is to do in Skyrim, except one thing. Fight you. One on one, to the death," the Warrior states.

"You've come to me a year too late. I've hung up my sword."

"You'll get it back, and fight me. Or I'll start killing people until you do."

The two warrior stared each other down.

"Fine. We will fight in one weeks time. Here," he points to a spot on the map. The mountainside, near High Hrothgar.

"Be ready for your death, Dragonborn," the Warrior grunts, and leaves.

Silvyr spends the time training, putting his armor back on again, and training with his Silver sword, he later named Peacekeeper, for it was the blade that ended the war.

Eventually, the time for the battle came.

He put on his blue cloak, packing up his supplies. His daughter, Lucia, runs to him, hugging him.

"Please don't leave," she says through tears.

"I have to, my dear. People will get hurt if I don't," he crouches down to her level, hugging her. He pulls out an ornate silver necklace, and puts it on his daughter. "To remember me by, if I don't return."

Silvyr walks over and hugs Blaise, who is barely holding back his own tears. "Send him to Sovngarde, father."

"That I will, son," he smiles, handing his son a Skyforge Steel Longsword. "If I don't come back, go to Jorrvaskr. They'll train you to fight, and take care of you."

He hugs his father tight. Then Silvyr turns, and with one last wave, leaves, to fight his toughest challenge yet.

 _Middas, 25_ _th_ _of Hearthfire 4E203_

 _Mountainside, Skyrim, Tamriel_

Silvyr arrived to the spot, to see the Warrior, primed and ready for a fight. Silvyr smirks at the warrior, dropping his cloak into the snow

"You don't look as impressive as you're described," the Warrior states with a chuckle.

"I'm good enough to beat you," Silvyr responds, drawing his blade. "No shield."

"Deal," he responds, discarding his shield. "Time to end the Last Dragonborn."

The Ebony Warrior charged, swinging his blade at Silvyr. Silvyr blocked, parrying and striking at the Warrior's back. He turned, blocking. The two held their blades together, both attempting to overpower the other. Silvyr dropped onto his back, using his momentum to flip the Warrior over him.

"Nice move!" the Warrior commented, as they got back to their feet. They circled each other, each sizing up the other. Silvy noticed the Warrior was on the defensive, and went on the offensive. Silvyr sent a flurry of strikes at the man clad in Ebony, the Warrior blocking expertly. The two were at a stalemate.

"Gods, I forgot how good this felt, fighting a warrior of my skill level!" Silvyr states, as they circled once again.

"Your skill level? Don'y insult me, Lion," the Warrior responds, taking his turn at offense.

He lunged, thrusting his sword forward. Silvyr rolled to the side, thrusting his blade into the Warrior's side. The Warrior grunts, holding his hand to the bloodied area of his body. The Warrior screams in anger, charging and hitting Silvyr's defense with strong, hard strikes. The Dragonborn was doing his best to defend, but eventually the Warrior overpowered him and struck him across the chest, cutting him.

"Well, that was painful," Silvyr states, the two distancing themselves for the time. "Not the worst I've ever had, but still."

Silvyr looked at his foe. **"Yool...Toor Shul!"** he shouts, fire coming from his mouth. The Warrior, right before the shout is shouted, dives to the side, grabbing his shield. He blocks the shout, the fire still going around the shield and hurting him, just not as bad.

"Impressive. The Thu'um is powerful in you," he responds.

The Ebony Warrior drops his shield, beginning the fight once again. They clash, swords striking each other at intense speeds. The sounds of clashing metal echo as the two courageous warriors do battle.

The two were getting tired, and it became obvious in the slowed pacing of the battle. But it was also obvious no one had the upper hand. The two stood, several feet away from each other, the Ebony Warrior standing at the edge of the cliff. That fall was several hundred meters, enough to kill anyone. This game Silvyr an idea.

 **"Wuld...Nah Kest,"** the Dragonborn Lion is shot forward at tremendous speed, charging at the Ebony Warrior. He slams his sword into the gut of the Warrior, impaling him. He kicks his body off the cliff for good measure. "Good riddance," Silvyr says, before grabbing his cloak and beginning the long trek down.

He eventually made it down off the mountain, and searched for the body.

But he never found it. He only found the sword he wielded.

Silvyr returned to his home, and mounted the sword of the Ebony Warrior above the door to Breezehome.

* * *

 _Fredas, 27_ _th_ _of Frostfall, 4E 203_

 _Mehrunes Dagon's Plane of Oblivion_

The Ebony Warrior awoke, arm on his gut. He looked around. "This isn't Sovngarde," he mutters.

"You are correct, mortal," the Daedra states, which shocks the Warrior.

"What do you want with me?

"It's simple: I want you to kill the Dragonborn as my champion."

The Warrior scoffs. "I tried that already, Dagon. Didn't end well."

"You didn't have the most powerful Daedra on your side then," Dagon responds. "I have creatures in Westeros, the continent far east of Tamriel. You will go there, and consolidate my power. The Dragonborn will learn about this somehow, of course, and will attempt to stop you. But by then it will be too late."

"As long as I get my revenge, I'm happy," the Warrior states, crossing his arms.

"That you will, my champion," Dagon states, laughing.

* * *

 _Fredas, 27_ _th_ _of Frostfall, 4E 203_

 _Breezehome, Whiterun, Skyrim, Tamriel_

Silvyr was working on his forge. He had been working for hours, the sounds of the forge spreading far. His forge was placed in the backyard of Breezehome. He also had several training dummies. Right now, his two children were sparring. He heard the sounds of wood clashing with wood, and smiled. When, suddenly, in a flash of lighht, he disappeared, being shot high into the air in a cloud of light.

"Hello, my champion," the distinct voice of Meridia speaks.

"Of course, as if enough crazy shit didn't already happen in the past month. What do you want Meridia?"

"Careful, Champion. I do not advise speaking to me in such a manor. Regardless, I have learned of something that requires your attention."

"Get on with it," he responds.

"My brother, Mehrunes Dagon, is making a play. YOu see, long ago, Dagon attempted to take over the far off land of Westeros, with demons of Ice. The divine being, Akatosh," she states, talking about Akatosh with malice. "Prevented this from happening, taking one of their heroes as his avatar. These creatures, the White Walkers, were defeated, and believed to be destroyed. But, they were not."

"What doe sthis have to do with me?"

"They are returning. And Westeros cannot stop them. And if they fail, no one can stop them and their army of undead from conquering the rest of Nirn."

"Let them save themselves, I have a family to think about."

"They cannot. They do not believe this threat exists, and they refuse to unite."

"And what can I, a foreigner with no knowledge of their culture, do about this?"

"Unite them. The dragon has done this before."

And before he could protest, she gave one warning. "Their Wall is the only thing that can stop them. Prevent this, or everyone dies. Can you truly allow that?" And with that, he was sent back to Whiterun.

 **And there you go! The first chapter of A song of Dragons and Demons! I hope you enjoyed! We will get to Westeros, during season 1 next chapter, I promise.**


	2. Authors Update

**Hello fans of this series! I am sorry I haven't updated this story recently. Sadly, my computer recently broke, and I lost all of my works. Stuff like that really ruins your motivations. So I am working on my next chapter, because I enjoy this story.**


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